“I prefer honesty to lies.” Cory heard Adelaide call her name from the back doorway. “I better help Adelaide with supper. The Reverend Davis will be arriving soon.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cory heard the Reverend’s loud voice outside as he called “whoa” to his team of horses. She studied her image in the mirror over the sideboard. Her braids weren’t as neat as they had been earlier, but she didn’t have time to redo her hair. She examined her dress and found a stain on her sleeve. Maybe nobody would notice. She felt exhausted from the day’s activities and prayed the Reverend and his family didn’t stay long after supper.
Cory heard Tyler’s footsteps on the stairs. He wore the dark suit Edward had thrown on the ground. Between cooking and cleaning, she had brushed the wool clean and pressed it free of wrinkles. His long hair curled about a clean white shirt. She admired the tall, wide-shouldered man. No matter who his parents were, they had produced a handsome son.
“I bought this suit for court,” Tyler excused. “Do I look overdressed?”
“Not at all.” She wished she had something nicer to wear. Her day dresses showed the scars of repeated use. She’d have to make some new ones soon.
He stared over her head in the mirror. “Is my tie straight?”
“No.” She took the ends and retied it. Tyler smelled of soap. He had shaved the stubble from his chin and upper lip, and Cory stared at his mouth in between. He had a delicious mouth, and she recalled what it felt like to have his lips crushed against hers. She tried to image Douglas making love to her. Nothing. Maybe if she closed her eyes and kissed Douglas, she could pretend it was Tyler. That seemed dishonest. Did men imagine they were kissing other women when they kissed her?
She heard footsteps on the porch and a knock at the door. “Our guests are here.”
“Miss Adelaide and I worked out a story to explain my presence unless you want me to tell them I’m sleeping in the room next to yours.”
“Don’t you dare! Mary Davis may be a preacher’s wife, but she loves sinful behavior. In others,” she amended. “I’ll die an old maid.”
“I doubt that, but I have no intention of ruining your good reputation. I know how hard it is to regain once lost.”
She knew he referred to his own and disagreed. “A reputation is earned. You’re not born with it.”
Cory opened the door and greeted the Reverend Davis, who removed his hat and returned her greeting. He was followed by his wife and daughter. Beth wore a new dress that flattered her slender frame. Cory looked at her own dress and felt dowdy by comparison.
Beth lifted a pie basket. “I made some fresh pies.” She placed the basket on the sideboard along with her bonnet and gloves.
“Thank you.” Cory began to close the door, but a familiar figure filled the opening. “Mr. Raymond.”
“I hope I’m not intruding.” He rotated his hat in his hands. “I saw you had guests, but it’s urgent. I’ve misplaced my keys, and I’ve looked everywhere for them. I thought maybe I left them here last night.”
Cory stepped back to allow him to enter. “You know the Reverend Davis and his family.” He reddened when he saw Beth. She appeared equally uncomfortable. Cory turned her attention to the sideboard. “There are no keys here.”
Douglas searched the sideboard and lifted the candlesticks, Beth’s pie basket, and the vase of wilted flowers. He repeated the process.
“Mr. Raymond.” Beth pointed at his jacket. “Do you have a hole in your pocket?”
Douglas smashed his hat on his head and jammed both hands into his jacket’s pockets. “I could have lost my keys anywhere.” He began to hyperventilate. “Those keys open the doors to all the buildings at the college. I have to find them.”
“I don’t think you lost them,” Beth said.
He waved his arms like a windmill. “Of course I lost them! They’re gone!”
“Calm down.” Her voice was soothing. “May I?” She lifted his jacket near the back. “I believe your keys are inside the lining of your coat.”
Douglas twisted around so quickly, he tore the jacket from Beth’s fingertips. He searched for the keys.
“Stop,” Beth ordered. She found the keys and massaged them forward to the front beneath his pocket. “I think you can reach them now.”
Douglas plunged his hand into his pocket and retrieved the lost keys. He sighed. “They’ve been there the whole time.”
“You need a wife to mend your jacket,” Tyler remarked from the hallway.
Cory wanted to kick him, but the others were staring at the stranger. “This is Tyler Montgomery,” she introduced.
“He’s my lawyer.” Adelaide entered the hallway from the dining room. “He’s helping me settle my affairs before I move in with my daughter. Come in. We don’t want supper to grow cold. Mr. Raymond, please join us. There’s plenty to share.”
Cory had to admire Adelaide. She was a cool bird under fire, but why did she have to invite Douglas? She didn’t even like him. How was she ever going to isolate Beth and ask her why she turned Douglas down?
“It was nice of you to invite us to supper,” Mary remarked as they passed through the hallway and into the dining room. Cory grabbed another table setting from the hutch. Tyler seated Adelaide at the head of the table, and the Reverend sat opposite her on the other end. Mary sat to his right with Beth next to her. That left Cory seated between Douglas and Tyler.
“It’s good to have guests again,” Adelaide remarked. She passed the dishes of chicken, green beans, corn on the cob, and potato slices around the table, the clinking of serving spoons breaking the initial awkwardness of a social gathering. “I hope you enjoy the meal. Cory made the biscuits,” she added.
Tyler took one from the bowl and noticed the bottom was nearly black.
Cory cringed. “Don’t eat the bottom if it’s burnt. The oven was too hot.”
“You should take lessons from my Beth,” Lawrence said. “Her pie crust is so flaky it could float in the air.”
“I look forward to tasting it.” Normally she was a fair cook, but nothing had gone right in the kitchen. Her mind had been busy pondering too many other matters to concentrate on baking biscuits.
“I hope you had a pleasant visit with Paula Stone,” Mary remarked to Cory.
“Very pleasant,” she answered quietly.
Tyler leaned forward to grab a bowl and whispered in her ear, “Liar.”
“Where are you from, Mr. Montgomery?” Beth asked.
“Please call me Tyler. I spent most of my life in Virginia except for six years at Harvard.”
“I’m a Yale man,” Douglas said. “My father always believed in a good education.”
“So did my mother.”
Douglas held his spoon midair. “Your mother paid your tuition?”
Everyone stared at Douglas. It was impolite to discuss personal finances.
Tyler dismissed his rudeness by answering. “Yes. She was a successful business woman.”
“How unusual,” Beth said. “What sort of business was she in?”
“She passed away,” Cory interrupted before Tyler could answer. “Recently,” she amended to explain her bluntness.
Beth touched her hand to her heart. “I’m so sorry.”
“My mother’s death was the reason I returned home,” Tyler replied. “It put my legal career on hold, temporarily, but family is the most important thing in life.”
“Of course,” Beth gushed. “I’m sure she was a wonderful mother.”
What was Tyler doing? Did he plan to reveal his entire family background? “She was known for her charity work,” Cory added. She put her hand on Tyler’s thigh to signal his silence.
“A religious woman?” Lawrence asked.
“She had strong convictions.” Tyler’s voice was high as he moved Cory’s hand back to her skirt.
“And your father?” Mary asked. “Is he living?”
“He was a restless man. He died looking for gold in California.”
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“Like so many,” Lawrence agreed. “The Good Book warns us not to store up treasures here on Earth. No good can come from greed.”
“And greed attracts the most heinous creatures,” Mary remarked in a hushed tone. “Two big hairy men spat tobacco juice all over the church entrance while their master talked to Lawrence before we came here.”
“Master?” Adelaide asked.
“Mr. Vandal was looking for runaways.” Lawrence said. “The two men were his hired chasers.”
“Someone has to track down lost slaves,” Douglas excused. “The law requires property should be returned to its owner.”
“For a nice profit,” Tyler added.
“That’s an odd comment from a Southerner,” Beth said.
“I’m representing a black man chasers claimed was a runaway,” Tyler admitted. “They printed fake fliers seeking information about him.”
“Nasty business,” Lawrence agreed. “With so many forged documents about, it must make your job difficult.”
“I’m not afraid of the documents,” Tyler revealed. “It’s the informants who lie and the chasers who kidnap innocent men and women to make a dollar who are the real threat.”
“I blame it on that book, Uncle Tom’s Cabin!” Douglas shook his finger. “A fictional account of slavery that has everyone in an uproar.”
Cory paid extra attention to the potatoes on her plate. Douglas didn’t know about her connection to its author.
“Cory has been reading Uncle Tom’s Cabin to me. You know her cousin wrote it.”
Cory tried not to groan. It was just like Adelaide to throw that bit of news in his face.
Douglas stared as if he had never seen her before. “You’re one of those Beechers?”
Before Cory could reply, Beth spoke. “You said you were from Virginia, Tyler. Have you read Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”
“I’ve read it,” he admitted. “It’s popular in Massachusetts.”
“So what do you think?” Beth asked. “Is it an accurate account of slavery or purely fictional?”
Tyler looked around at his audience. “One book could never capture the full impact of slavery on our society, but it did start a dialogue that, for better or worse, has changed the attitude toward slavery.”
“I think slaves should be returned to Africa,” Douglas announced between bites of food. “Colonization is the answer.”
“Are you competent with figures?” Tyler asked.
Douglas gagged. “I teach mathematics. What do numbers have to do with slavery?”
“How many slaves are in the United States?” When Douglas hesitated, Tyler answered. “Nearly four million. Now calculate how much it would cost to send four million people to Africa. Calculate the loss in man power for Southern farmers. Calculate the loss in profits when those slaves need to be replaced by paid laborers. The numbers add up to a bad idea.”
Cory felt trapped between two raging bulls. Both men had forgotten the niceties of polite society and had turned the evening into a heated debate.
“What other solution do you propose?” Douglas asked. “Should we follow the abolitionist John Brown’s example last year and arm the slaves?”
“John Brown was a preacher,” Tyler countered. “Maybe the Reverend Davis should answer your question.”
Lawrence had nearly cleaned his plate, but paused to reply. “Our forefathers believed they had to fight the British to gain their freedom. Maybe John Brown wasn’t a traitor but a patriot. It all depends on the outcome.”
“And the winner rewrites history,” Tyler concluded.
Cory felt an obligation to defend Douglas. “I wonder what they will write about those who owned slaves?”
“Not all slave masters are Simon Legree,” Tyler defended. “Some are even friends with their slaves. I know it’s a strange concept. A hundred years from now all slave masters will be portrayed as cruel and inhumane, and all slaves will be victims of abuse and starvation. It’s not that black and white.”
“Slavery has been with us since Biblical times.” Douglas looked to the Reverend Davis, who nodded in agreement. “It will still be here in a hundred years.”
“Hopefully not in this country,” Tyler argued. “I hate to say slavery is good anywhere, but slaves, serfs, or servants provided the hard manual labor to create civilizations. But once civilized, society needs to free them.”
Douglas pounded his knife on the table. “But at what price?”
“I know some slaves who are willing to risk everything for freedom,” Lawrence said.
“With a war?” Douglas demanded. “Or a slave uprising?”
“Harriet Beecher Stowe captured some aspects of slavery, but unlike John Brown, she didn’t promote violence,” Tyler argued. “Uncle Tom is a young black man who refuses to fight. He practices something in law we call civil disobedience. It’s where someone disobeys the law because they believe the law is wrong.”
“Like Tom not betraying the whereabouts of the two women at the end of the novel,” Beth said. “Even though the law requires it.”
Tyler smiled at Beth. “That’s right.”
“But Legree whips Tom to death,” Cory reminded them. Beth was paying far too much attention to Tyler. “So much for peaceful disobedience.”
“Disobedience has consequences and resisting violence with non-violence can be dangerous,” Tyler agreed. “Tom was a fictional character, but there are many real slaves who have died not only for breaking written laws but unwritten ones.”
“They’re fools,” Douglas said. “Decent citizens obey the laws. All the laws.”
“Then how are bad laws changed?” Beth asked.
“Did Uncle Tom change anything?” Douglas demanded. “He died for nothing.”
“He didn’t die,” Tyler corrected. “Uncle Tom is ink on paper, but even a fictional character can change the world. Otherwise we wouldn’t be discussing slavery now.”
“We can discuss it until we’re blue in the face,” Douglas said. “It won’t change anything.”
“Change is inevitable,” Tyler argued. “Nothing remains static. Someday someone will rally the blacks to change the laws, hopefully, through non-violence. It will take a special person, and it will take more than one person. Civil disobedience only works when a large group of people protest something they feel is wrong and needs to be challenged.”
“Like if all Northerners refused to return slaves, the Fugitive Slave Law wouldn’t matter anymore.” Beth looked directly at Tyler. “Two years ago a black man named John Price was offered work. Only it was a trick by chasers, who kidnapped him with the help of U.S. marshals. They planned to put him on a train at Wellington and return him to Kentucky. They didn’t succeed. Are you familiar with the incident, Tyler?”
Cory could feel the excitement in Beth’s rushed words and watched as Tyler leaned forward toward Beth. She wanted to tear them apart.
“I studied the case. A group of men stormed the hotel where they were holding Price and removed him to Oberlin and then Canada. A federal grand jury indicted thirty-seven of the rescuers. To obtain their release, state authorities arrested the federal marshal and the men involved and charged them with kidnapping Price. To avoid going to jail, they dropped charges against all but two of the thirty-seven rescuers.”
“Simeon Bushnell served sixty days and Charles Langston served twenty days,” Beth confirmed.
Cory pouted. No one existed but Tyler and Beth. What was going on?
“Langston made a very impactful statement in court,” Tyler recalled. “I must take upon myself the responsibility of self-protection; and when I come to be claimed by some perjured wretch as his slave, I shall never be taken into slavery.”
“I can’t believe the Ohio Supreme Court upheld the Fugitive Slave Law as constitutional,” Beth complained. “At least the Republicans want to repeal it.”
“Republicans want war,” Douglas argued. “Change brought about by violence is not the answer.”
“I
agree,” Tyler said. “A war might change the laws, but slavery is a state of mind. If a slave refuses to act like a slave, others begin to see him differently. They may even see him as a man.”
“Do you believe blacks and whites are equal?” Douglas asked.
“They could be,” Beth answered quickly before blushing. She cleared her throat and continued. “We live in a country where poor people have an opportunity to better themselves, own land, even become wealthy. No other country in the world offers the same.”
Adelaide nodded in approval, and Cory wondered why she hadn’t chosen Beth as a companion. They had more in common than she’d realized. Both men were focused on Beth now. Cory could slip under the table and disappear, and no one would notice.
“You’re an idealist, Beth,” Tyler spoke gently. “And reality has a way of smashing our dreams with tough choices. When I attended Harvard, I saw plenty of men who believed they were chosen by God to be the leaders of the world. Only they possessed the wisdom and character to make decisions for this country. Not only was it their right but their duty to govern the people and control the commerce of the nation.” He glanced toward Douglas. “I don’t underestimate the white elitist in the world who clutch their power and wealth with both hands. They will go to war or die to keep society status quo.”
“There has always been a hierarchy in every society,” Douglas argued. “There are leaders, and there must be followers. And the followers must submit to the leaders or chaos results.”
Cory was tired of being ignored and didn’t bother to hide her irritation. “You don’t need to talk to women about submission. We’re trained in it from childhood.”
“As we are in cooking, cleaning, and being a good hostess,” Adelaide interrupted. “How would you like to see if Beth’s pie crust is as flaky as promised?”
Chapter Fourteen
The women gathered the dishes after dessert, and the men stepped outside on the porch to finish their discussion of impending war. The sunlight filtered through the treetops, and the air felt cooler when the women joined them.
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